


A Family of His Own

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the ASOIAF kinkmeme.</p><p>Prompt: Ned (& whoever else - Robert, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully), when he gets the message during Robert's Rebellion that Catelyn is pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family of His Own

They have been “at war” (but mostly in camp) for just over three moons when Ned Stark receives a raven bearing a letter addressed to “Eddard Stark” in a lady’s writing. It is sealed with unmarked wax, but next to the seal is a careful, rather good ink drawing of the direwolf of House Stark. Ned’s heart leaps for a wild moment, thinking of Lyanna, before his senses return to him and he remembers that his sister’s penmanship has never been that fine and she has never had the patience for drawing. Intrigued now, he breaks the seal and opens the letter.

 _My lord husband,_ it begins in the same precise script. _I have recently confirmed that I am with child, and thought to tell you. Both the babe and I remain in excellent health, and I hope that this letter finds you the same. I pray to the gods that all will be well and that we three shall soon be together again. Yours, Catelyn._

Below her name she has affixed her father’s seal, the trout of House Tully, and Ned guesses that it is so that he will know it is truly his wife writing as they have not yet been married long enough for him to recognize her hand.

 _A child_ , he thinks, and he cannot but smile. They had hoped – but there is always the hope, and so often hopes come to nothing. But it has been long enough since last he lay with Lady Catelyn that Ned thinks they can be fairly certain of this babe, the thought filling him with joy. A child, a tiny new life grown of his seed who will grow further to stand in the place of all the Starks who have gone before – to fill the hole left in his heart by the loss of his parents, his brother.

“What are you grinning about?” asks Robert teasingly, breaking the image in Ned’s mind of himself, comfortable in Winterfell, holding a child of his own blood.

“It is a letter from Lady Stark,” he answers proudly. “She writes to tell me I am to be a father.” Robert’s face breaks into a grin. She may not have held his interest for that long, but he was endlessly fascinated and excited when Mya Stone first made her appearance, and this child – Ned’s child – will be a trueborn babe, so there is not even the twinge of shame, of fear that Lord Arryn will berate them.

“Congratulations, Ned! You’ve done well! Now let us find you a whisky and a woman, that you can celebrate properly!” Ned frowns a little. A woman, to celebrate the fact that his lady wife is expecting his baby? He hopes that if – _when_ \- Robert marries Lyanna he does not mark her pregnancies with dalliances with other women.

“I am married now, Robert,” he says stiffly, “and Lady Catelyn carries my child. I will not do her the dishonor of seeking a…woman. But I will certainly take a whisky,” he adds with a smile, “or two, if you can manage!” Robert ventures off with a laugh like a bark, and Ned is left alone with his letter, to think on Lady Catelyn’s news.

When he left her at Riverrun, of course he had hoped to return. Lady Catelyn was a dutiful and capable wife, and moreover she was beautiful and kind and held in her smiles a promise of the life Ned hoped to lead, of a wife and children and a family of his own. But he did not really known her – he still doesn’t – and as much as he did not want to die, he had not feared terribly leaving her behind were his life forfeit in Robert’s service. But now everything is different. There is a child, a child who is his heir, who will be Lord of Winterfell when Ned’s bones lie next to Brandon’s, to Father’s. Or a child who will lose everything even before drawing his first breath, should Robert’s cause fail. A child who will never know his father if Ned does not come home. It is a solemn thought, and suddenly Ned wants that whisky for more reasons than celebration.

“Why so grim, Stark?” roars Robert when he returns with glasses and a bottle. “This is a happy day! Your lovely little Tully bride is to bear you a babe! You were smiling not a moment ago about it, and yet your face is now even longer than usual. That might be a record, even for you.” He hands the bottle to Ned, who pours first Robert and then himself generous cups.

“If I do not return,” he started, taking a gulp and feeling it burn the way down. “If I do not return, this babe will never have a father. And if we lose, Robert, if we lose – this babe will lose his life to King Aerys before it has even begun.” He shakes his head, ruefully. “Less solemn men than I might fear for their children, in my place.”

“We shall not lose,” Robert assures him confidently, swigging whisky as if it is water. “We shall have the Mad King’s head, and you shall go home to Winterfell to meet your child and then get many more babes on your pretty wife. I am certain of it.” Ned smiles reluctantly, trying to be as sure as Robert is.

“Now have another drink, and if you will not have a woman then write to your Lady Stark to tell her how glad you are of her news.”

Ned has not one, but two more whiskies, and it is enough to make him warm and reckless enough to forget the dangers of this war. He wonders for a moment if it is Robert’s habit of drinking overmuch that makes him so sure in everything, or if Ned would have been the same had he been the firstborn. Either way, he sits in his tent and rereads Lady Catelyn’s brief letter, and pushes aside all thoughts of treason and death and orphans. He allows himself to think only of going home to Winterfell and taking his own child in his arms before taking his own wife to bed, and he smiles, content, at the thought.


End file.
